


Pumped Up Kicks

by pyrtania



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:05:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrtania/pseuds/pyrtania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hoya buys a pair of shoes and starts dreaming again. Dongwoo's "friend" isn't as imaginary as everyone believes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pumped Up Kicks

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People.
> 
> This is confusing and strange, just a heads up.

Hoya is a simple guy. He lives in a modest apartment and works a job that isn’t anything extraordinary but pays well. He is in his early twenties, fresh out of college and getting used to the real world. His mother owns a small restaurant in a city two hours away, and his older brother is in law school. He has many friends, ranging from childhood companions to mere acquaintances. People seem to take to him easily. His best friend, Sunggyu, is his co-worker and has been his best friend for three years. He lives with a man named Dongwoo, a blonde haired guy only a year older than himself.

 

It’s quite strange really, the story of how Hoya and Dongwoo came to live together. One day Hoya was at a café enjoying his usual morning coffee when someone suddenly hurdled into him, spilling the hot liquid down his shirt and across the table. The cause of this incident, however, did not look back at Hoya. The man didn’t even seem to notice him. He was shaking violently, muttering under his breath. When Hoya placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, he whipped around, eyes wide and curiously clouded, like a fog. He looked terrified. Hoya, at a loss for words, just gaped at him before another man came running up, apologizing.

 

“I’m so sorry, sir, I was supposed to be watching him. I really only turned around for just a moment, please forgive him, sir.” This man was wearing a white nurse’s outfit. He carefully took the man who had spilled Hoya’s coffee by the hand, but the latter didn’t budge. He was too busy staring at Hoya, mouth pursed and head cocked to the side. “Dongwoo, come on, it’s time to go now.”

 

“No, no, it’s alright,” Hoya said. For some reason, Hoya couldn’t explain why, he felt like he knew this Dongwoo person. He didn’t really know him of course, they were just strangers, but there was that  _feeling_. A strange feeling.

 

The three of them ended up eating lunch together, as the nurse (Sungjong was his name) offered to pay to properly apologize to Hoya. The next day, Hoya showed up at the hospital where Dongwoo was staying to pay him a visit. He came by the next day, too. And the next. And the next. And the next. Pretty soon, all the nurses knew Hoya by name and greeted him in the hallways of the hospital.

 

“I’ve never seen Dongwoo respond to someone so well.” Sungjong and Hoya sat in the waiting room of the hospital, watching nurses rush to and fro and patients sign in at the desk. “He knows your name and recognizes you all the time. He even asks about you, almost every day.”

 

Hoya fiddled with his jacket zipper. “Can you tell me what is wrong with him….exactly?”

 

Sungjong sighed heavily, blowing out his cheeks. “I was wondering when you were going to ask. Truth is, no one knows. He’s in perfect physical health; his learning ability is normal. He can read and understand speech. There’s just something…. _wrong_. He can’t communicate well. He seems to be in a different world most of the time. The doctors think it’s some sort of brain problem, but we’ve run all the tests we could think of. No results.”

 

Hoya nodded slowly. “So why is he here? If he’s not actually sick?”

 

“No family,” Sungjong responded. “We can’t find any records of his parents or siblings or any relatives, for that matter. No one’s ever come looking for him either.”

 

“So he could leave the hospital if a relative came for him?”

 

“He could leave if anyone wanted him, actually, as long as they’re willing to become his legal guardian or caretaker.”

 

“How do you do that?”

 

Sungjong smiled. “I’ll show you.”

 

Two months later, after several hours of paperwork and phone calls and more than a little help from Sungjong, Dongwoo officially moved into Hoya’s apartment. It was rocky at first, Hoya had to learn how to take care of Dongwoo and how to manage him, but they made it work. Life settled into a comfortable routine.

 

After two years of living together, Hoya decides, on a whim, to buy something for Dongwoo.

 

That’s when things get weird.

 

-

 

Hoya buys the shoes because he thinks Dongwoo will like them.

 

The pair catches his eye as he is walking home from work one Thursday, his suit a bit wrinkled and his shoulders hunched under the weight of his deadlines he has yet to meet. He stops in front of the store window, gazing at the shoes displayed on a shiny pedestal. They are surrounded by bright signs promising exceptional sales and guaranteed satisfaction. “Special Edition!” and “Once in a Lifetime Offer!” they read. Hoya leans in closer, squinting through the glare on the window to get a better look. Something about the shoes seems familiar. He feels a tug inside his head, a fuzzy memory. Blinking, Hoya takes a step back. He’d owned those shoes.

 

(“Hey, Hoya!”

 

Hoya turned around and saw a tall boy with brown hair sauntering up to him. Hoya’s eyebrows went up; this kid was the most popular kid in the whole class, the epitome of cool. He had also never said one word to Hoya before, even though they’d been in the same class since first grade.

 

The boy, whose name was Woohyun, stopped a few feet away, a smirk still on his face. “Those are some pretty cool shoes.”

 

Hoya glanced down at his feet, at his new white basketball shoes. His mom had gotten them for him as a present, surprising him on his birthday. She had worked overtime for a month to be able to afford them, and Hoya had almost cried when he opened the package. He told her that she shouldn’t have bought them, that she should have spent it on the rent or the phone bill instead, but his mom had only smiled. “You deserve them, honey”, she had said.

 

Hoya dug his hands into his pockets. “Thanks.”

 

Woohyun smiled at him, flashing the grin that had all of the girls in their class giggling and blushing. “You wanna come over here with us? We’re all looking at Sungyeol’s new comic book. It’s a special edition.” He jerked his head in the direction of a small group of boys and a couple girls: the cool kids, the elite, the kings and queens of the fourth grade.

 

Hoya glanced down once more at his shoes, his ticket into the world of the popular kids. He rubbed the back of his neck, a smile breaking.

 

“Sure.”)

 

Hoya smiles at the memory, pressing his fingers against the cool glass of the store window. He had loved those shoes.  _I wonder what made me get rid of them?_  he muses to himself. That particular memory is one he can’t recover.

 

He glances again at the price. It wasn’t too high. Besides, Dongwoo had another test done yesterday. Hoya feels like the shoes might help him; tests usually stress him out.

 

Five minutes later, Hoya walks out of the store, a plastic bag swinging from his hand.

 

-

 

Dongwoo hates the shoes.

 

He has another break down, a bigger one than last week, the moment Hoya opens the bag.

 

Dongwoo opens his mouth and lets out a blood-curdling scream, flinching away from the shoes. He starts choking on air, breath coming impossibly fast. The tears come next, big, fat tears that flow down his face in rapid succession. Hoya shoves the shoes back into the bag, hiding them from sight. He tackles Dongwoo, pinning him to the floor, expertly dodging the punches and kicks aimed at his head and ankles. Hoya presses his full body weight against Dongwoo’s thrashing figure, struggling to trap Dongwoo’s wrists above his head so he doesn’t give himself a black eye again. Dongwoo’s shaking, harder than Hoya’s ever seen him shake before.

 

“ _Dongwoo._  Dongwoo, shhhh, it’s okay. Dongwoo, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, nothing’s going to hurt you. Dongwoo. Dongwoo, look at me.  _Look at me_.”

 

Hoya risks letting go of one of Dongwoo’s wrists to grab his chin, forcing him to turn his face. Dongwoo’s eyes are wild and hazy, pupils roving around the room without purchase. Hoya feels hot tears travelling down his fingers. Dongwoo tries to turn his head away but Hoya grips harder, fingertips digging into skin.

 

“Dongwoo, calm down. It’s okay. Look, I’m right here. It’s okay.” Slowly, Dongwoo’s writhing lessens to occasional jerks, his breathing beginning to near a normal pace. Hoya doesn’t move, preparing for a second round, just in case. Dongwoo swallows, hard, and Hoya feels his muscles relax beneath him.

 

Dongwoo blinks and looks up at Hoya. Well, not  _right_  at him. Dongwoo’s gaze has always been slightly to the left, making him look like he is always gazing over Hoya’s shoulder. His eyes are cloudy.

 

“Food?” he says.

 

Hoya pushes himself up so he is sitting on Dongwoo’s thighs. He reaches to wipe a few stray tears off Dongwoo’s face.

 

The room is silent.

 

Then, Hoya stands up, wordlessly going into the kitchen, depositing the shoe bag into his room on the way. Dongwoo doesn’t see the look on his face.

 

-

 

“Hey man. Workin’ hard?”

 

Hoya lifts his head from his stack of papers and is met with the sight of Sunggyu standing in the doorway of his cubicle. He sits up straight in his office chair, stretching, wincing when his bones crack in protest. “Yeah. I’ve got to get these papers done today.” He sighs, blinking a few times. “Dongwoo had another break down last night.”

 

Sunggyu frowns, leaning against the door frame. “Again? What happened this time?”

 

“I tried to give him a pair of shoes that I bought on the way home yesterday. I thought he’d like them. But he freaked out when I took them out of the box.” Hoya rubs his eye with the back of his hand.

 

“That’s tough. Do you know why?”

 

“Why does he ever freak out?” Hoya throws back. He grabs a few papers on his desk, reorganizing them into neat piles.

 

Sunggyu shrugs. “True. Did the test have any results?”

 

“None.” Hoya sighs heavily, tension returning to his shoulders. “I don’t know why I keep having those tests done. Nothing ever shows up.”

 

“Hey, now. Don’t be like that. Something’s bound to show up, sooner or later.”

 

“That’s what I keep telling myself, but nothing ever does. I’ve had so many tests done, Sunggyu, you have no idea. They come back clean every time. According to the doctors, Dongwoo should be perfectly normal.” Hoya’s head drops into his hands.

 

“Hey, hey. You’re getting way too stressed about this.” Hoya feels hands on his shoulders, fingers gently but firmly kneading the stiffness out of his muscles. “We’ll figure it out, alright? Everything’s going to be fine. Besides, now you’ve got yourself a new pair of shoes.” Sunggyu chuckles warmly. “You, sir, need to take a deep breath and relax every now and then. Preferably now, because I’m starving and I want to try out that new sushi place that just opened down the street.”

 

Hoya lifts his head and sees that Sunggyu is smiling down at him.

 

At times like these, Hoya wonders what in the world he did to deserve being friends with someone like Sunggyu.

 

“Fine…as long as you’re paying.”

 

-

 

_Gasping. Someone is breathing hard, right into his ear. Maybe it’s him._

 

_The street is wet, dark. And empty. Except for him and…._

 

_He keeps running. Faster, faster._

 

_Not fast enough._

 

_He keeps running._

 

_He turns a corner, slipping slightly on the wet brick. He sneaks a glance behind him._

 

_Someone’s coming._

 

_He runs. The cold is catching up with him, trickling down his back._

 

_He gasps as it touches his lungs. Harder to breath._

 

_He slips again._

 

_This time he falls._

 

Hoya bolts upright, the sheets falling from his body. He gasps into the darkness of his bedroom, beads of sweat running down his bare chest. His heart is hammering, bumping against his ribs uncomfortably. After a moment, he peels the damp sheets off of his body, slipping out of bed. He quietly makes his way into the kitchen, making sure not to wake Dongwoo up. He boils water for a hot cup of tea, attempting to lull himself back into the relaxation of unconsciousness. It isn’t until many moments later that Hoya realizes he’s trembling. Taking a seat at the table, Hoya runs his fingers through his hair.

 

It isn’t the subject of the dream, necessarily, that’s making him feel uneasy. The problem is that it  _was_  a dream.

 

After all, Hoya doesn’t dream.

 

It’s been so long since he’s even had a dream that he’s forgotten what it feels like. People say that everyone dreams, that some just forget them by the time they wake up. That’s not true, at least for Hoya. Hoya is certain that he doesn’t dream. When he was a kid, a young child, he used to dream, fleeting little scenes that played inside his head like a stage show. Even when he couldn’t remember them in the morning, he knew somehow that he had dreamed. But around when he was in elementary school (around fourth grade, was it?) he stopped dreaming. Nothing had happened to him, no scarring tragedy or deathly illness or major change in his life. He just…stopped dreaming. He’d never thought much about it. He’d just accepted it and moved on.

 

And now that he is dreaming again, Hoya isn’t quite sure what to do. He gazes at the refrigerator where several of Dongwoo’s drawings were hung up. A large picture of a silver gun took up most of the right door. It was Dongwoo’s favorite. Hoya admired the detail, even if the gun had scared him a bit at first. But Dongwoo was probably just watching too many old western movies, anyway.

 

Hoya sighs, pouring out his now cold tea into the sink. He returns to his bed, where he stares at the ceiling until the morning light streams through his window.

 

-

 

“Those the shoes?” Sunggyu asks, eyeing Hoya’s feet as he takes a sip of coffee.

 

“Yeah. I used to have some just like these in elementary school. They made me ‘cool’,” Hoya chuckles.

 

“Well, they are pretty sweet. Since when do you have fashion sense?”

 

Hoya laughs, shoving Sunggyu’s shoulder with his own. It’s Saturday, and Hoya has finally gotten all of his paperwork done after many stressful hours at the office. Sunggyu had burst into his apartment this morning (Hoya had given him an extra key for emergencies) and announced that they were going out today. Hoya didn’t argue; some fresh air would do him good.

 

That’s how he finds himself strolling down the streets of the busy downtown area, stopping at stores every once in a while but not buying anything. He turns around, quickly checking that Dongwoo hadn’t wandered off.

 

He hadn’t; Dongwoo is walking quietly behind them, turning half of a broken crayon over and over in his hands.

 

“So….how’s your job going?” Hoya asks, sipping his own coffee.

 

Sunggyu hums. “Good, good. I made a presentation to the boss yesterday- for the new company plan, remember? I think he liked it. Or rather, he didn’t seem to hate it,” he adds, laughing.

 

Hoya snorts. “What did he- Dongwoo?”

 

Hoya turns, watching as Dongwoo halts in front of a store window and carefully touches the glass. He walks over, gently taking Dongwoo’s elbow. “Hey, come on. Let’s keep walking.” He pulls on Dongwoo’s elbow but the boy doesn’t budge. It’s like he doesn’t even notice Hoya, doesn’t notice anything.

 

“ _Better run_ ,” Dongwoo says, stroking the window again.

 

“What? What are you talking about, Dongwoo?”

 

“ _Better run_ ,” he repeats. “Faster.”

 

Hoya peers into the window, squinting against the reflected sunlight. With a jolt, he recognizes the window as the store that he was at the day before, buying the shoes for Dongwoo. The shoes that he is now wearing. The shoes that Dongwoo is now gazing at through the glass.

 

“Dongwoo…” Hoya looks between the white shoes in the window and the ones on his own feet. “Dongwoo, those are my shoes. Look.”

 

Dongwoo eyes move down to Hoya’s feet, then back up to his face. His clouded pupils drift to the left as always. He stares at Hoya for a moment, his head cocked to the side. “He’s coming,” he says.

 

“Is he talking about ‘him’ again?” Sunggyu asks, suddenly appearing behind them.

 

“I guess so…” Hoya answers quietly. Dongwoo is still staring at him. (Every now and then, Dongwoo would say something about “him”. Hoya had tried to figure out who he was talking about (was it Hoya? Was it Sunggyu? Was it Sungjong, who came over sometimes to take care of him? Was it Dongwoo himself?) but to no avail. He and Sunggyu concluded that Dongwoo had formed an imaginary friend of some sort, maybe a hallucination, who knows. There weren’t many people that Dongwoo knew, and Hoya couldn’t think of anyone that Dongwoo remembers for that long, besides himself and Sunggyu. This ‘him’ has only been mentioned a few times, like once when Hoya and Dongwoo were out in the snow, walking home from the doctor’s office. Hoya had asked Dongwoo if he was cold. Dongwoo had shaken his head, catching a snowflake in hand. He pressed it between his palms. “Feels like…him,” he had said.)

 

“What did he say this time?” Sunggyu asks, warily looking between Dongwoo and Hoya.

 

Suddenly, like someone had flipped a switch, Dongwoo blinks and looks away, fishing his crayon out of his pocket. He starts humming, a tune Hoya doesn’t recognize.

 

Hoya shrugs, sipping on his coffee.

 

Dongwoo walks ahead of them, but Hoya keeps his eyes on his back.

 

“Nothing.”

 

-

 

_Gasping. Someone is breathing hard, right into his ear. Maybe it’s him._

 

_The street is wet, dark. And empty. Except for him and…._

 

_He keeps running. Faster, faster._

 

_Not fast enough._

 

_He keeps running._

 

_He turns a corner, slipping slightly on the wet brick. He sneaks a glance behind him._

 

_Someone’s coming._

 

_He runs. The cold is catching up with him, trickling down his back._

 

_He gasps as it touches his lungs. Harder to breath._

 

_He slips again._

 

_This time he falls._

 

_His shoes bump against his thighs. His white, new, basketball shoes._

 

_Someone starts to whistle, an eerie tune he doesn’t recognize._

 

_It cuts into him, every note like the jab of an icy knife, ripping into his insides._

 

_He struggles to stand again, slipping on the wet brick._

 

_A hand is in his face, offering. He takes it, feeling it pull him upright. The figure lifts its head and-_

 

Hoya wakes up sucking in air with strangled gasps. He wakes for the second night in a row covered in sweat, shaking, from the same dream. He takes a few breaths, willing himself to stay calm before slipping out of bed again. He makes his way into the kitchen, frowning when he sees yellow light spilling down the hallway.

 

“Dongwoo? What are you doing awake?”

 

Dongwoo is seated on the cold floor in the middle of the kitchen, legs spread around a piece of white paper. His hand is moving furiously, pencil scratching as it is dragged across the surface in short, quick strokes. He doesn’t respond, so Hoya carefully bends down beside him, placing a hand on his arm.

 

Dongwoo jumps, pencil falling from his hand and escaping across the smooth tiles. “Dongwoo, what are you doing?”

 

Dongwoo turns his head, and Hoya swallows down a small noise of surprise. His eyes are completely clouded over, like the night sky during a rainstorm. Hoya wonders how he could even see.

 

“Picture,” Dongwoo said, gripping the paper in his hands. Hoya notices with concern that Dongwoo’s hands are shaking.

 

“I see the picture, Dongwoo, but you should go to bed, okay?” Dongwoo stays still for a moment before he jerks violently. He nods, obediently picking himself up off of the floor. Hoya puts a hand on his back to steady him, wincing as his palm met cool fabric. “You’re freezing. You shouldn’t have been sitting out here on the cold floor.”

 

Hoya gently coaxes the paper from Dongwoo’s hands, glancing at the sketch. It is a pair of shoes, men’s dress shoes, the kind he wears to work every day. There seems to be a stain of some sort on the right shoe, maybe some sort of liquid, that was running down the side of the toe. Hoya doesn’t give it much thought, laying it on the kitchen counter and steering Dongwoo toward his bedroom.

 

“Picture,” Dongwoo says again as they make their way down the dark hallway.

 

“I’ll put it up on the fridge tomorrow, just go to sleep now; it’s late.” Hoya waits until Dongwoo slips into his bed to pull up the covers around his chin. “You sleep tight, and no more getting up in the middle of the night, okay? If you need something, come and get me.”

 

Dongwoo breathes a sigh, and Hoya gently brushes the hair out of his eyes. “Why did you get up in the middle of the night to draw a picture, huh?” he asks quietly, half to himself.

 

Dongwoo’s voice is just as quiet, already heavy with sleep. “Because he told me to.”

 

Something about the way Dongwoo says it makes Hoya’s body go cold. His fingers freeze against Dongwoo’s forehead, pausing in the process of running through the boy’s hair.

 

“Who told you to? Dongwoo?” But Dongwoo’s breaths are already slow and even, his cloudy eyes hidden from view.

 

Hoya returns to his own bedroom with shaky steps, spending the rest of the night staring at the ceiling.

  
-

 

“You look-”

 

“You don’t even need to finish that sentence.”

 

“-terrible.” Sunggyu grins at him, shoulder propped against the door frame.

 

Hoya closes his eyes, a little longer than a blink because it takes him several seconds to open them again. “You have no idea. I haven’t slept properly for two nights.”

 

Sunggyu’s eyebrows furrow, fingers picking at the sleeves of his shirt. “And why’s that?”

 

Hoya hesitates, swiveling around in his chair so that he wasn’t facing Sunggyu. “Bad dreams.”

 

“Oh, you poor thing.”

 

“You could be a little sympathetic, you know.” Hoya’s head drops back against his chair, the bags under his eyes weighing his lids down. “I’m not in the best condition right now.”

 

Sunggyu’s face appears above his, smiling softly. He places his hands against Hoya’s head, slowly rubbing circles on his temples. Hoya tenses up a little at the close contact, Sunggyu’s body inches from his head, but he can’t help the way his body automatically relaxes, giving in to the rhythm of Sunggyu’s hands.

 

“You’re right,” Sunggyu says, voice gentle and warm, “I’m not being very considerate. I’m sure you’re under a lot of stress right now. You just need to relax.”

 

Hoya tries to reply, but all that comes out is a deep “ _nngh_ ” as the tension seeps from his skin. Sunggyu shifts a bit closer, his chest now pressed against the crown of Hoya’s head. Hoya doesn’t mind, as long as Sunggyu’s hands keep moving in small circles.

 

Sunggyu pauses for a moment, brushing a stray piece of hair away from Hoya’s forehead, and Hoya grunts lazily in protest. Sunggyu chuckles, a low sound that Hoya can feel against his head, and picks up his rhythm.

 

“How about you take the night off,” Sunggyu suggests, his voice surrounding Hoya like a lullaby. “You look like you couldn’t even stand if you tried. My shift ends in ten minutes; what do you say we pick up some dinner and I’ll drive you home?”

 

Hoya wants to protest, he really does, but Sunggyu’s right. He’s too tired to do anything, much less make dinner and walk home. Besides, Sunggyu’s the one who offered.

 

Hoya smiles a small smile, his eyes sliding open blearily. “Sure. Thanks.”

 

Hoya could’ve sworn it. He could’ve sworn that he felt Sunggyu’s fingers slide along his jaw, hesitant and light as a feather. He could’ve sworn that a look passed over Sunggyu’s face, one that was too quick and maybe a bit too complicated for him to understand. But then Sunggyu is in front of him, smiling that brilliant smile and pushing the side of Hoya’s head impatiently.

 

“Well then, get up, you lazy butt.” He says before waltzing out of the cubicle.

 

He could’ve sworn it, but he was probably so tired that he was imagining things.

 

-

 

_Gasping. Someone is breathing hard, right into his ear. Maybe it’s him._

 

_The street is wet, dark. And empty. Except for him and…._

 

_He keeps running. Faster, faster._

 

_Not fast enough._

 

_He keeps running._

 

_He turns a corner, slipping slightly on the wet brick. He sneaks a glance behind him._

 

_Someone’s coming._

 

_He runs. The cold is catching up with him, trickling down his back._

 

_He gasps as it touches his lungs. Harder to breath._

 

_He slips again._

 

_This time he falls._

 

_His shoes bump against his thighs. His white, new, basketball shoes._

 

_Someone starts to whistle, an eerie tune he doesn’t recognize._

 

_It cuts into him, every note like the jab of an icy knife, ripping into his insides._

 

_He struggles to stand again, slipping on the wet brick._

 

_A hand is in his face, offering. He takes it, feeling it pull him upright. The figure lifts its head and Hoya sees that it’s a boy, about his age. His face is shrouded in shadow._

 

_“You have to run,” the boy hisses, his voice desperate and full of panic. Hoya feels fingers digging into his arm. They’re freezing. “He’s got a quick hand. You’ve gotta run, Hoya. You need to run.”_

 

_Hoya feels a tug in his gut, a twinge of familiarity. That voice. He knows that voice._

 

_He hears whistling again. Hoya snaps his head around._

 

_He’s closer._

 

_He whips back around and the boy is tugging at his arm._

 

_“Hoya! Run, Hoya! Hoya!”_

 

 

“Hoya! Hoya, wake up! Hoya!”

 

Hoya jerks upright, feeling his arm collide with something soft. He hears someone let out an “ _oomf_!” somewhere to his right. He struggles against the constricting blanket around his waist, fingers hunting for a lamp or light switch. His hand brushes cold metal and he turns the lamp on, flooding the room with light.

 

He’s in his living room, folded up on the couch. Sunggyu is on the floor beside him, bending over as he wraps his arms around his stomach. They had returned to Hoya apartment last night after dinner, and Hoya had invited Sunggyu inside. After Dongwoo was put to bed, Hoya and Sunggyu settled onto the couch to watch some TV on low volume, so as not to wake Dongwoo. They both apparently fell asleep, the TV’s soft light still glowing.

 

Hoya wiggles out of his blanket and reaches out to touch Sunggyu’s shoulder. “Sunggyu, I’m so sorry. Did I hit you?”

 

Sunggyu raises his head, taking a few deep breaths. “Yeah, socked me right in the stomach.” He grins, though Hoya can see him wince a little. “But I’m fine. I was trying to wake you up. You woke me with your tossing and turning. You started panting and mumbling in your sleep, and it sounded really scary. Were you having those nightmares again?”

 

Nightmares. Hoya feels his cheeks coloring. Only little kids have nightmares. Adults aren’t supposed to have bad dreams, aren’t supposed to freak out or be scared of their dreams. But Hoya is. He’s so scared, his fingers are shaking. This is the third time in a row that he’d dreamt the same dream.

 

He drops his eyes to the blanket, nodding slightly. He doesn’t know what to do, what to think. Is he crazy? Is he going insane? Why is he dreaming about this same…figure, always running, always being chased? Does it mean something? Hoya can still feel the faint brush of ice against his lungs, paralyzing his insides.

 

“Oh, Hoya. Shhh, shhh, don’t cry, it’s okay.”

 

Crying? He was crying? Large drops splash against his blanket, but he’s so cold he can’t feel anything. Sunggyu climbs up onto the couch next to him, still in his work clothes. Hoya thinks vaguely that he should have offered him some of his own clothes to wear. But then again, neither of them really planned that he would stay the night.

 

He feels Sunggyu wrap his arms around him, pulling him against his chest and stroking his hair soothingly. And Hoya feels like a child, or a girl, so weak and helpless and so scared. He shouldn’t be like this, he shouldn’t let it get to him. It was only a dream.

 

But his hands still shake and his lungs are still cold. So he just curls against the warmth of Sunggyu’s chest, listens the rhythm of his heartbeat and smoothness of his voice whispering comforting words, and his fingers threading through Hoya’s hair. He should be embarrassed, maybe a little uncomfortable with the intimacy of the situation, but all he can bring himself to feel is gratefulness that Sunggyu is here, not laughing at him or judging him.

 

Sunggyu eventually falls silent, but his arms stay tight around Hoya, his fingers still stroking his hair. Hoya feels his eyelids become heavier and heavier, lulling him back into sleep.

 

Right before his eyes close, he hears Sunggyu let out a breath and ask something, his chest vibrating against Hoya’s head, but that must have been right when he fell asleep.

 

-

 

Hoya wakes to the sound of glass shattering. He bolts upright, a piece of paper falling from his chest. Confused, he picks it up.

 

_Hoya-_

 

_Sorry, but I have to leave early this morning to get to work on time._   
_I’ll tell the boss that you’re out sick; you’re going to take the day off and rest, okay?_   
_Call me if you need anything._

 

 _-Sunggyu_  :)

 

Hoya smiles to himself, thankful that Sunggyu didn’t mention anything about last night. He hears something shatter again, and he jumps up from the couch, rushing into the kitchen.

 

Dongwoo is standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a mess of shattered glass and red. Red everywhere. A dark, red liquid is spreading across the floor, coloring the pieces of glass and pooling around Dongwoo’s toes.

 

 _Blood_ , Hoya immediately thinks. His head feels light, and he sways a bit on his feet.  _So much blood_. For some reason, his dream flashes in his mind, the wet streets and the feeling of terror and the fear that someone is coming, always coming, coming for him.

 

“Dongwoo?” he asks, his voice thin and trembling. Dongwoo looks up at him with wide eyes. He’s trembling, holding a plate with food in one hand.

 

Hoya carefully makes his way over to him, avoiding the pieces of glass and trying to avoid the…blood. “Dongwoo, are you okay? Are you hurt?” He asks urgently. He takes the plate from Dongwoo’s hand and sets it on the counter behind them before placing a hand against Dongwoo’s cheek. His skin is ice cold. He checks all over Dongwoo’s body, looking for a spreading red spot, or a dripping wound. He finds nothing.

 

“Dongwoo, are you hurt?” he asks again.

 

“Juice,” Dongwoo says mournfully, eyes roving over the red, wet floor.

 

Juice.

 

 _Juice_ , not blood. Hoya is so relieved he laughs, pulling Dongwoo into a crushing hug; his bones still a little heavy. “Juice, yes, juice. Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up. Did you drop your glass or something?”

 

Dongwoo nods and Hoya lets out another uneven breath, laughing breathlessly. “Thank  _God_.”

 

Dongwoo just regards his with hazy eyes like a dreary, overcast sky. Hoya detects something in his eyes, something he’s never seen before and can’t quite identify.

 

“Dongwoo?”

 

Dongwoo just turns away, ambling slowly into the living room.

 

Hoya spends his day at home doing stuff he never really gets to do anymore, not since he started his job: reading, cooking food for himself and Dongwoo, cleaning up the apartment. Right now he is lounging on the couch, flipping through channels aimlessly. He settles on a variety show, where pop idols are doing this obstacle course or something. It’s mildly entertaining.

 

The couch sinks below him as Dongwoo collapses on the other end. To Hoya’s surprise, Dongwoo crawls right up next to him, leaning back against Hoya and tugging Hoya’s arm so that it wraps around his waist. Hoya hesitates for a moment, pondering the boundaries that Dongwoo usually sets, before reaching up to slip a hand through Dongwoo’s hair. The latter lets out a slight purr, much like a cat, and relaxes his head against Hoya’s chest.

 

Times like this, Hoya thinks, are what remind him what he’s working so hard for. Normally, Dongwoo shies away from physical contact. Only brief hugs or a quick brush of hand against forehead, nothing more. Sometimes, Hoya has to hold Dongwoo’s hand tightly when they’re in a large crowd, just to make sure he doesn’t wander off. But anything more than that, and Dongwoo is backing away or starting another one of his fits. He never initiates the contact, either; Hoya is always the one to pull him into a hug or brush his bangs away from his face. But this…this is new.

 

This is why Hoya has so many tests done, why he keeps bringing Dongwoo to all the doctors in the city of Seoul. Dongwoo deserves things like this. He deserves to get better and be able to share memories with people, communicate with them in a way that they’ll understand. All Hoya wants is for Dongwoo to be happy, to be free of whatever it is that is trapping him inside a body that he doesn’t know how to use.

 

Dongwoo slides a hand over Hoya’s, the one wrapped around his waist. Hoya watches in wonder as Dongwoo doesn’t flinch, doesn’t start to breathe quicker or shake, doesn’t try to wiggle out of Hoya’s hold. He only moves his thumb slowly over the back of Hoya’s hand, back and forth, back and forth.

 

Maybe, just maybe, he’s getting better.

 

They lay like that for a long time, hours maybe. Hoya doesn’t count. When Dongwoo falls asleep against his chest, he runs gentle fingers over soft cheeks. Dongwoo’s breath is warm against his hand. There’s a funny feeling in his chest, a tightening. Not like the one in his dream, but still painful. He’s felt this before, but not…not with Dongwoo.

 

He somehow wiggles out from behind Dongwoo without waking him up and escapes to the shower. He stands in the spray for a long, long time, thinking about Dongwoo when he’s sleeping, his cloudy eyes, the way his body quivers when he’s having a breakdown. And for some reason, he thinks of Sunggyu’s face when he smiles.

 

When Hoya steps out of the shower, his chest is still tight.

 

-

 

_Gasping. Someone is breathing hard, right into his ear. Maybe it’s him._

 

_The street is wet, dark. And empty. Except for him and…._

 

_He keeps running. Faster, faster._

 

_Not fast enough._

 

_He keeps running._

 

_He turns a corner, slipping slightly on the wet brick. He sneaks a glance behind him._

 

_Someone’s coming._

 

_He runs. The cold is catching up with him, trickling down his back._

 

_He gasps as it touches his lungs. Harder to breath._

 

_He slips again._

 

_This time he falls._

 

_His shoes bump against his thighs. His white, new, basketball shoes._

 

_Someone starts to whistle, an eerie tune he doesn’t recognize._

 

_It cuts into him, every note like the jab of an icy knife, ripping into his insides._

 

_He struggles to stand again, slipping on the wet brick._

 

_A hand is in his face, offering. He takes it, feeling it pull him upright. The figure lifts its head and Hoya sees that it’s a boy, about his age. His face is hidden in the darkness._

 

_“You have to run,” the boy hisses, his voice desperate and full of panic. Hoya feels fingers digging into his arm. They’re freezing. “He’s got a quick hand. You’ve gotta run, Hoya. You need to run.”_

 

_Hoya feels a twist in his gut, a twinge of familiarity. That voice. He knows that voice._

 

_He hears whistling again. Hoya snaps his head around._

 

_He’s closer._

 

_He whips back around and the boy is tugging at his arm._

 

_“Hoya! Run, Hoya! Hoya!”_

 

_He can’t._

 

_“What’s your name?”_

 

 _“It doesn’t matter!” The boy practically screams. “Hoya, please, I’m begging you. He’s coming for you. Just please,_ please _, run!”_

 

_Hoya watches the boy for a moment, his face still shrouded in shadow._

 

_He runs._

 

_It isn’t long before the whistling starts again. It’s the same eerie melody, a song that could’ve been happy but isn’t._

 

_The whistling stops and now there are words._

 

_“I’ve waited for a long time,_

_yeah, the slight of my hand is now a quick pull trigger…”_

 

_Hoya screams when the voice reaches his ears._

 

 

Hoya should be used to waking up scared. He should, but he isn’t.

 

His pants seem deafening in his ears, his sweat cascading down his body. The darkness seems to move around him so he scrambles for his lamp, only taking a breath when the room is bathed in light.

 

Shower. He needs a shower.

 

The warm water eases his tight muscles, relaxes his tense body. He steps out and wraps a towel around his waist. There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep any more tonight, so he makes his way into the kitchen, slowly and tiredly, and pours himself a glass of milk.

 

Glancing at the clock, he sighs heavily. 2 a.m. If these dreams keep going on like this, he’s going to collapse from exhaustion. He tries not to think about how his sleep remained dreamless when Sunggyu’s arms were around him.

 

He hears a quiet  _pat-pat-pat_ of soft slippers against tile and then Dongwoo is standing in the door frame.

 

“Hey, Dongwoo, what-” Hoya’s words die in his throat when Dongwoo’s eyes meet his. His eyes are…clear. Not completely, not like the way Hoya’s are, but they are clearer than Hoya’s ever seen them. They’re like a sunny summer day with only a few thin clouds floating about. He can clearly see Dongwoo’s pupils and the deep brown color of his irises.

 

He just stares, not really knowing how to react. Dongwoo blinks, cocking his head to the side so that his bangs swing in front of his eyes. For some reason, Hoya’s fingers twitch, itching to brush them out of his face.

 

Dongwoo seems so…grounded. Hoya doesn’t really know why, but whenever Dongwoo’s eyes get clearer, he seems to get closer to reality and farther from….wherever he is. It’s like he’s almost better.

 

Hoya takes a deep breath, turning his back to Dongwoo and busying himself with making a cup of hot tea. Should he try to talk to Dongwoo? What should he say? Is Dongwoo really getting better?

 

Hoya almost drops the cup when he feels something on his back. The touch is gentle at first, like the brush of a feather, but goose bumps immediately break out over his bare skin. He freezes, mind grinding to a halt. Was Dongwoo…voluntarily touching him? This had never happened before. Hoya breathes a short gasp as he feels fingers spread against the skin of his back.

 

Dongwoo is completely silent, gently pressing a palm against Hoya’s skin and dragging it a few inches down his shoulder blade. Hoya shivers involuntarily, and Dongwoo’s hand pauses.

 

Hoya tenses, preparing himself for a break down, one of Dongwoo’s fits, anything. A second passes in anticipating silence before another palm presses against his other shoulder blade. Hoya stays still, breathes evenly and controlled. Dongwoo’s hands begin to move slowly, tentatively, over his skin, gliding over his shoulder blades and down to the base of his spine and back again.

 

Hoya can’t help the small noise that escapes his mouth. Dongwoo’s hands are so warm and soft, leaving trails of heat as they travel over his newly-cleaned skin. And it just feels so  _good_ , Hoya thinks, that he can’t help closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel of hands on his body, slowly running circles over his back.

 

Hoya tries to stop thinking, tries to stop the thoughts of confusion and a nagging feeling of  _something_ , and tries to concentrate on the feel of Dongwoo’s hands. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like this. He knows that Dongwoo doesn’t mean anything by it, that he’s most likely just curious. After all, Dongwoo’s never touched someone this way, never been touched or kissed or anything. Not like this. So Hoya just tips his head back a little bit, blocking out his thoughts, and relaxes into the feeling of the warm caress.

 

Dongwoo’s hands make a few more rounds, stroking the muscles on Hoya’s bare back. Hoya hears the faint noise of Dongwoo’s slippers against the tile, and he feels warmth radiating against his back. He doesn’t think much of it, too busy losing himself in the way Dongwoo’s hands move, mapping out his skin, tracing his spine, outlining his shoulder blades, and-

 

Hoya’s head snaps up. This time his breathing stops too, his whole body freezing. Dongwoo’s hands have stopped moving, and he can feel all ten fingers against his shoulder blades, one hand on each side. But that’s not all he can feel.

 

Dongwoo’s breath fans over his back, much too warm and much too close. Hoya squeezes his eyes shut as he feels it again, the soft press of skin against his back, right on his spine. Dongwoo pulls his lips away after a moment, nudging Hoya’s skin with his nose.

 

Hoya’s heart stops, and maybe time stops, too; it sure feels like it. Hoya’s mind is blank, limbs frozen in place. It takes another press of lips against his back before he turns around, spinning so fast drops of water from his hair fly. One lands right on Dongwoo’s cheek.

 

Dongwoo’s face is too close, too close, and his eyes are too deep. Hoya’s never seen his eyes like this before; they seem endless, and so  _clear_. Hoya realizes with a jolt that Dongwoo’s almost looking him straight in the eye.

 

He watches Dongwoo’s face as the boy lowers his eyes, lifting a hesitating hand and, after a moment, carefully placing it on Hoya’s chest. Hoya watches him suck his bottom lip, his red, plump lip, between his teeth slightly, raising his other hand and dragging it slowly over Hoya’s abs. Hoya exhales, the touch sending sparks flying through his body.

 

When Dongwoo lifts his eyes to meet Hoya’s, Hoya doesn’t understand the look in his eyes. It isn’t curiosity, or hesitation, or even…lust. It’s a weird mixture of the three and maybe even something else. It’s probably because his mind is so confused, lagging and not able to catch up with the situation, that Hoya lifts a hand and gently brushes away the drop of water that was gradually slipping down Dongwoo’s cheek. Dongwoo leans into the touch slightly, still keeping eye contact, and something inside of Hoya breaks loose. He has no idea where it came from, or how long it’s even been there, but it travels down his arm and into his fingers, making them slide down Dongwoo’s cheek and under his jaw.

 

The way Dongwoo’s eyes widen slightly and seem to get even deeper push him to keep going, to trace the jawline with his fingertips.

 

By this point, all rational thoughts have flown from his mind, trapped back in reality where something like this isn’t even supposed to happen. He and Dongwoo are supposed to be friends; Hoya was technically his caretaker after all. He was Dongwoo’s self-proclaimed “older brother” even though Dongwoo was a year older than he was. Older brothers take care of their family, right? Hoya had been taking care of Dongwoo for years, no thoughts about him crossing any boundaries of brotherhood or friendship.

 

But this- the way Dongwoo is dragging his palms over Hoya’s chest, the way Hoya’s fingers are tracing his jaw- this isn’t the way you touch your friends or even your brothers. It should scare Hoya, should make his uncomfortable or even freaked out, should make him back off or shy away. But all he can think about is how Dongwoo’s never been touched like this before, how Dongwoo has never touched someone so intimately, never…never kissed someone. Like any friend, Hoya wants Dongwoo’s first kiss to be with someone that loves him and cares about him. Is that so wrong?

 

Hoya slides his fingers back up Dongwoo’s jaw, lying to himself that that was the  _only_  reason this was happening, that this strange feeling spreading through his veins has nothing to do with it at all.

 

Dongwoo’s eyes seem to grow darker as Hoya touches his face. Something inside Hoya jerks when he recognizes the look in his eyes. Experimentally, he places his other hand against Dongwoo’s waist, pulling the other boy a little bit closer. This situation was already wrong in so many ways, why would it hurt to push it a bit farther?

 

When he slips his fingers beneath Dongwoo’s shirt, just up to the base of his fingers, Dongwoo lets out a gasp, pressing his palms harder against Hoya’s chest. When Hoya’s palm meets the hot, smooth, skin of Dongwoo’s back, the other boy closes his eyes, letting out a noise that makes the inside of Hoya’s stomach tighten.

 

This close, Hoya can’t stop staring at Dongwoo’s lips. They’re so full and red, parted slightly as Dongwoo’s breaths become shorter. Since rationality and sense were both abandoned long ago, Hoya dips his head before he can stop himself and presses his lips to Dongwoo’s. He feels the other boy stiffen beneath his fingers, his hands halting their exploration of Hoya’s chest. Hoya just presses their lips together again, more firmly this time. It’s only after a few tense seconds that Dongwoo starts moving his too, uncertainly.

 

It only takes them a few more kisses to get the hang of it, with Dongwoo’s lips moving faster and faster and his body suddenly pressing itself against Hoya’s. Hoya is surprised at how easily Dongwoo’s lips move against his own, how  _good_ it feels. Dongwoo’s hands start moving again, this time with more force and passion. When Hoya’s hand climbs a bit higher under Dongwoo’s shirt, Dongwoo lets out a small whimper against Hoya’s lips. Hoya gasps, embarrassed by how his body responds on its own, pressing back against Dongwoo’s and winding an arm around the other boy’s waist.

 

 _This is the part where you should stop_ , Hoya’s brain thinks, but Hoya can’t hear anything over the sound of his panting and the quiet, soft noises slipping out of Dongwoo’s mouth. All Hoya knows is that he wants to hear more.

 

Dongwoo lets out a gasp when Hoya’s lips start to stray from Dongwoo’s, travelling down his jaw and down to his neck. “ _Hoya_.”

 

Hoya’s lips stop, his hands pausing. He lifts his head so he can look Dongwoo in the eye. Dongwoo’s face is flushed, his lips swollen and eyes half-lidded.

 

“Say it again,” he says, fingers digging into Dongwoo’s skin. Dongwoo’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “My name.” Hoya searches Dongwoo’s face, the feeling inside his veins spreading with a new kind of heat. “Say it again.”

 

“ _Hoya_ ,” Dongwoo says again, except this time it’s a moan, low and throaty and making Hoya return to his previous task of sucking on Dongwoo’s neck with a new fervor. Dongwoo’s clinging to him like he’s drowning, his fingers skimming down Hoya’s torso and grabbing a hold of the towel around Hoya’s waist that was beginning to slip.

 

“ _Hoya_ ,” Dongwoo says again, except this time it’s whispered against Hoya’s ear, accompanied by the swipe of a tongue.

 

Hoya just crushes Dongwoo closer to himself, lining up their bodies.

 

“Hoya, I-”

 

Hoya feels it when Dongwoo’s body jerks, when the other boy’s limbs become stiff and his arms fall from Hoya’s chest. Hoya pulls back, confused, and draws in a sharp breath.

 

Dongwoo’s face is white, his breaths even. Hoya had just heard him panting,  _moaning_  even, but there was no sign of any of that. Dongwoo’s face was carefully blank, his back suddenly straight. He looks up and Hoya can’t see his pupils. His eyes are so clouded, so hazy, that Hoya retracts his hands slowly, taking a step back.

 

Dongwoo just breathes, in and out, in and out. Then, he shuffles over to the refrigerator and pours himself a glass of milk, downing it in one gulp. His slippers slap against the tile as he makes his way down the hall and back to his bedroom, never once glancing over his shoulder, never catching the wary look as Hoya watches him, still rooted in the same spot. He doesn’t see Hoya shakily lower himself into a chair and drop his head into his hands. He doesn’t hear the way Hoya’s breaths are still coming quickly. He doesn’t see Hoya spend the rest of the night in that chair, staring stony-eyed at the wall, wet towel still around his waist.

-

 

“Eat, or I will force feed you.” Hoya glances up from his plate full of food to see Sunggyu watching him cautiously.

 

“I’m not really hungry,” Hoya replies, pushing a piece of chicken from one side of the plate to the other.

 

A hand is placed on top of his own and Hoya looks up into Sunggyu’s concerned eyes. “I’m really worried about you, man. You haven’t been sleeping, you’re falling behind in your work…that’s just not like you. And now you’re not eating? Hoya, is there something you need to talk about?”

 

Hoya opens his mouth, pictures of white basketball shoes and rainy streets flashing in his mind, the feeling of Dongwoo’s fingers on his skin and an eerie whistled song ringing in his ears. He closes his mouth. “No.”

 

“Hoya. You’re insulting me now, to be honest. Don’t think I don’t know you well enough to tell when something’s wrong.” Sunggyu blinks. “Is it those nightmares again?” he asks, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

 

Hoya nods before he can stop himself, swallowing down the strange lump in his throat and blocking out images of the shadowed figure he sees every night.

 

Sunggyu’s eyes flash, and it’s that expression again, the one that Hoya can’t quite decipher.

 

“Listen, tomorrow is Friday, and we have a short day. I’ll get Sungjong to come take care of Dongwoo, and you will come over to my place and relax.” He holds up his hand when Hoya opens his mouth to protest. “Nope. I wasn’t asking you, was I? You’re staying at my place tomorrow night, and that’s that.” Sunggyu smiles softly at him, his eyes crinkling in the corners in the way that makes Hoya’s insides warm. “Now, eat. I wasn’t kidding about force feeding you.” He waves his chopsticks threateningly at Hoya, nudging the neglected food on his plate.

 

“Sunggyu.” The boy lifts his head, eyes open and full of gentleness and kindness. Hoya wonders again how he possibly became friends with someone like Sunggyu. “Thanks.”

 

Sunggyu just smiles, picking up a piece of chicken from Hoya’s plate, holding it trapped between his chopsticks in front of Hoya’s face. Hoya grins, accepting the food. Sunggyu laughs, and Hoya tries to ignore the tightness in his chest.

 

-

 

_Gasping. Someone is breathing hard, right into his ear. Maybe it’s him._

 

_The street is wet, dark. And empty. Except for him and…._

 

_He keeps running. Faster, faster._

 

_Not fast enough._

 

_He keeps running._

 

_He turns a corner, slipping slightly on the wet brick. He sneaks a glance behind him._

 

_Someone’s coming._

 

_He runs. The cold is catching up with him, trickling down his back._

 

_He gasps as it touches his lungs. Harder to breath._

 

_He slips again._

 

_This time he falls._

 

_His shoes bump against his thighs- his white, new, basketball shoes._

 

_Someone starts to whistle, an eerie tune he doesn’t recognize._

 

_It cuts into him, every note like the jab of an icy knife, ripping into his insides._

 

_He struggles to stand again, slipping on the wet brick._

 

_A hand is in his face, offering. He takes it, feeling it pull him upright. The figure lifts its head and Hoya sees that it’s a boy, about his age. His face is hidden in the darkness._

 

_“You have to run,” the boy hisses, his voice desperate and full of panic. Hoya feels fingers digging into his arm. They’re freezing. “He’s got a quick hand. You’ve gotta run, Hoya. You need to run.”_

 

_Hoya felt a twist in his gut, a twinge of familiarity. That voice. He knows that voice._

 

_He hears whistling again. Hoya snaps his head around._

 

_He’s closer._

 

_He whips back around and the boy is tugging at his arm._

 

_“Hoya! Run,Hoya! Hoya!”_

 

_He can’t._

 

_“What’s your name?”_

 

 _“It doesn’t matter!” The boy practically screams. “Hoya, please, I’m begging you. He’s coming for you. Just please,_ please _, run!”_

 

_Hoya watches the boy for a moment, his face still shrouded in shadow._

 

_He runs._

 

_It isn’t long before the whistling starts. It’s the same eerie melody, a song that could’ve been happy but isn’t._

 

_The whistling stops and now there are words._

 

_“I’ve waited for a long time,_

_yeah, the slight of my hand is now a quick pull trigger…”_

 

_Hoya screams when the voice reaches his ears._

 

_He falls, knees hitting the pavement, sending a shock through his body._

 

_This time, he can’t get up._

 

_Footsteps coming closer and closer. He walks leisurely, steps rhythmic and unhurried._

 

_Hoya watches the shadow grow and grow. His hands feel like they’re made of ice._

 

_“Better run, better run, outrun my gun…better run, better run, faster than my bullet…”_

 

_Hoya gasps as icy fingers wrap around his heart and start to squeeze._

 

Hoya actually screams this time. He wakes up to the cringe-worthy sound of a strangled yell, realizing after a second that it’s his own voice. He stays in bed for a moment, shaking. Taking a nap wasn’t a very good idea after all. He hasn’t succeeded in catching up on his sleep at all. He thought that the dreams only came at night, but apparently he was wrong. Checking the clock beside his bed, he sits up. It was time to go to over to Sunggyu’s.

_-_

 

“I declare tonight male bonding night!” Sunggyu announces, swinging open the door to his apartment and holding it open for Hoya. Hoya walks in and takes off his shoes slowly. For all the times that Sunggyu’s been over to his apartment, he has only been to Sunggyu’s a select few times. The apartment looks relatively the same, with beige walls and modern furniture and a clean kitchen. There were only a few new things, like a shiny new refrigerator and a huge TV attached to the wall of the living room.

 

“Ta-da,” Sunggyu jokes, shuffling into his kitchen and pulling out two glasses. “What would you like? Water? Soda? Wine?”

 

“It’s a bit early for wine, don’t you think?” Hoya answers, settling onto the couch.

 

“Oh, don’t be silly. Never too early for wine!” Sunggyu laughs. “But fine. Water it is.”

 

Sunggyu hands Hoya a glass and plops down next to him on the couch. “So, Mr. Hoya, I do believe we have some things to discuss.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Sunggyu sips his water and raises his eyebrows at Hoya over the rim of his glass. “Don’t play dumb with me. What’s been going on with you?”

 

Hoya sighs, running his fingers over the top of his glass. For some reason, he wants to tell Sunggyu. Even though it’ll sound stupid and weird, he wants to. Something tells him that Sunggyu will understand, or at least try to. “I’m still having those nightmares.”

 

“That’s why you’re so off lately?”

 

Hoya nods, eyes on the glass in his hands.

 

He hears Sunggyu take a deep breath, take another sip of his drink. Then, “What happens in the dreams?”

 

“The same thing. Always the same thing.” Hoya feels his voice drop, talking softly, as if saying it louder would make it worse. “I’m running on this street. It’s nighttime, and the road is wet. Someone’s behind me, chasing me. I keep falling, and one time this kid helps me up and tells me to run. Then whoever’s chasing me starts to sing.”

 

“Sing? What song?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard it before. Then, I start to get all cold. And then he catches up to me.” Hoya shivers involuntarily.

 

“What happens next?” Sunggyu whispers.

 

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

 

“This street you’re running on. Do you recognize it?”

 

Hoya blinks. In all the time he’s spent mulling over this dream, he’s never thought about that. Did he recognize it? He thinks for a moment, then- “Wait. Yeah. Yeah, I think I do! I can’t believe I’ve never noticed this before. It’s the street I used to live on as a kid, when I was growing up.”

 

Sunggyu nods slowly. “And the boy, the one that helped you. Did you recognize him?”

 

“His face was covered in shadow, so I couldn’t get a good look at him. His voice did sound familiar, though.”

 

Sunggyu just chews on his lip, nodding slowly. “Hmm. Well, these dreams could mean something, or they could mean nothing at all. I just hope they go away soon, yeah? I miss you being all normal and stuff.” He smiles at Hoya, and Hoya ignores the way his chest tightens in response.

 

Sunggyu suddenly slaps the couch cushion beneath him. “Now! Let’s move on from all this depressing stuff and commence with the bonding. A movie sounds good, yeah?”

 

Hoya laughs, relaxing back into the cushion. “Sure.”

 

 

An hour later finds the two curled up on Sunggyu’s couch, an action movie playing on the TV. Hoya tries to focus more on the explosions and gunfire on the screen and less on the way Sunggyu’s hair is falling into his eyes and the way his shirt is bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of his waist.

 

Sunggyu turns his head to the side to look at Hoya, smiling gently. “You okay?”

 

Hoya returns the smile. “Yeah.”

 

“I am really worried about you, you know. You’re scaring me.”

 

Hoya sighs, dropping his eyes. “I’m scaring me too.”

 

“Have you been having the dreams every time you fall asleep?”

 

“Well, not every ti-” Hoya snaps his mouth shut, realizing what he was about to say.

 

Sunggyu eyes glint curiously as he turns even more, facing Hoya. “What? Not every time?”

 

Hoya bites his lip, his cheeks coloring. “Not the time when you were there.”

 

Sunggyu scrunches his brows. “But you did. I woke you up from the nightmare, remember?”

 

“No, I mean after. When you….you know…held me.”

 

A look of understanding passes over Sunggyu’s face, followed by a small smirk. “So I make the dreams go away?”

Hoya chews on his lip. “I guess so.”

 

When he raises his eyes to meet Sunggyu’s, the other man’s eyes are intense, burning even. It starts with Sunggyu’s hand on his arm, sliding up to his bicep and to his neck, and then they’re kissing, Sunggyu’s hands cupping his jaw and his hands in Sunggyu’s hair. Sunggyu’s lips press insistently against his, kissing him until breathing seems like an afterthought. He feels Sunggyu’s fingers against his shirt and then they’re underneath it, spreading across his stomach. Memories of another night flash in Hoya’s mind ( _Dongwoo’s whimpers is his ear and breath on his skin_ ) but he shoves them away.

 

Sunggyu pushes his tongue into Hoya’s mouth, exploring. His hands are moving farther and farther up Hoya’s chest, exposing more and more of his skin. When Hoya feels a tug on the fabric, he pulls away for a moment, allowing the shirt to be pulled over his head, before he reconnects their lips, running his tongue along the inside of Sunggyu’s mouth. His hands are roving over Sunggyu’s body, trailing down his spine and around to his chest then back up to the base of his neck and into his hair.

 

All of this time, Sunggyu is running his hands along Hoya’s bare chest and back, touching him like it was all he had ever wanted to do. He’s kissing Hoya, and somehow it’s passionate and hot but also gentle, like he wants to savor the moment as much as he can. Hoya relaxes, letting Sunggyu take the lead. He loses himself in the taste of Sunggyu’s lips and the warmth of his hands.

 

Hoya feels himself being lowered, back pressing into the couch cushion as Sunggyu hovers above him, still kissing him. When they both pull away to catch their breaths, Hoya asks, in a voice that was several octaves lower than his normal voice, “Is this what you meant by male bonding?”

 

Sunggyu’s body shakes as he laughs. “Of course it was,” he says, voice suddenly next to Hoya’s ear. Hoya opens his mouth to respond, but then Sunggyu’s mouth is around his earlobe and all that comes out is a low moan.

 

Sunggyu seems to like that, judging from the way he continues down Hoya’s neck, sucking on the skin. Experimentally, Hoya lets out another breathy moan. Sunggyu presses down on him, rolling his hips down, and this time Hoya can’t control the noise that escapes his mouth. His hips jerk up uncontrollably.

 

Sunggyu chuckles into his ear. “A bit eager, are we?”

 

Hoya just growls in response. “Shut up and take off your shirt.” He grips the stiff fabric of Sunggyu’s shirt, undoing the buttons as best as he can. Sunggyu chuckles again and pushes his hands away, easily undoing the rest himself and sliding the shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor.

 

Even in the dim blue light of the TV, he can see the unexpectedly well-toned muscles of Sunggyu torso. The surprise must have shown on his face because Sunggyu starts to smirk, his face smug. “Impressed?”

 

Hoya presses his hands against Sunggyu’s abs, feeling the hardened muscles under his fingertips. “Very.”

 

“Let’s get back to business, then, shall we?” Sunggyu suggests, lips trailing over Hoya’s jawline.

 

Hoya just grips the back of Sunggyu’s neck and pulls his head up, fusing their mouths together. Sunggyu rolls his hips down again and Hoya moans into Sunggyu’s mouth. Sunggyu starts to pull away after a moment, but Hoya tightens his grip on Sunggyu’s bare back, whining in the back of his throat.

 

Sunggyu just smiles and kisses Hoya again. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere. I just thought that maybe we should…relocate? My bedroom’s back there.” He jerks his head towards a room in the back of the apartment.

 

Hoya nods, and Sunggyu climbs off of him and stands up. He holds out a hand for Hoya, pulling him into a sitting position on the couch. Hoya reaches out and grabs Sunggyu’s arm, yanking him back in for another kiss. Sunggyu just laughs and whispers, “Wrap your legs around my waist,” into Hoya’s ear. Hoya obliges, and Sunggyu picks him up and carries him into his bedroom, Hoya leaving a trail of kisses down his neck the whole way.

 

-

 

_Gasping. Someone is breathing hard, right into his ear. Maybe it’s him._

 

_The street is wet, dark. And empty. Except for him and…._

 

_He keeps running. Faster, faster._

 

_Not fast enough._

 

_He keeps running._

 

_He turns a corner, slipping slightly on the wet brick. He sneaks a glance behind him._

 

_Someone’s coming._

 

_He runs. The cold is catching up with him, trickling down his back._

 

_He gasps as it touches his lungs. Harder to breath._

 

_He slips again._

 

_This time he falls._

 

_His shoes bump against his thighs- his white, new, basketball shoes._

 

_Someone starts to whistle, an eerie tune he doesn’t recognize._

 

_It cuts into him, every note like the jab of an icy knife, ripping into his insides._

 

_He struggles to stand again, slipping on the wet brick._

 

_A hand is in his face, offering. He takes it, feeling it pull him upright. The figure lifts its head and Hoya sees that it’s a boy, about his age. His face is hidden in the darkness._

 

_“You have to run,” the boy hisses, his voice desperate and full of panic. Hoya feels fingers digging into his arm. They’re freezing. “He’s got a quick hand. You’ve gotta run, Hoya. You need to run.”_

 

_Hoya felt a twist in his gut, a twinge of familiarity. That voice. He knows that voice._

 

_He hears whistling again. Hoya snaps his head around._

 

_He’s closer._

 

_He whips back around and the boy is tugging at his arm._

 

_“Hoya! Run,Hoya! Hoya!”_

 

_He can’t._

 

_“What’s your name?”_

 

_“It doesn’t matter!” The boy practically screams. “Hoya, please, I’m begging you. He’s coming for you. Just please, please, run!”_

 

_Hoya watches the boy for a moment, his face still shrouded in shadow._

 

_He runs._

 

_It isn’t long before the whistling starts. It’s the same eerie melody, a song that could’ve been happy but isn’t._

 

_The whistling stops and now there are words._

 

_“I’ve waited for a long time,_

_yeah, the slight of my hand is now a quick pull trigger…”_

 

_Hoya screams when the voice reaches his ears._

 

_He falls, knees hitting the pavement, sending a shock through his body._

 

_This time, he can’t get up._

 

_Footsteps coming closer and closer. He walks leisurely, steps rhythmic and unhurried._

 

_Hoya watches the shadow grow and grow. His hands feel like they’re made of ice._

 

_“Better run, better run, outrun my gun…better run, better run, faster than my bullet…”_

 

_Hoya gasps as icy fingers wrap around his heart and start to squeeze._

 

_He starts to scream again, fighting the cold, but how can he when it’s inside him?_

 

_“Can’t run now, can you Hoya?” The voice is next to his ear and it hurts. It feels like it’s slicing him apart and it hurts and it hurts and-_

 

Hoya bolts upright. He closes his eyes for a moment, then starts his routine. First: slow down the breathing. He breathes in slowly, in and out. He looks around, noticing an unfamiliar wall and unfamiliar bed sheets. Glancing to his right, Hoya sees Sunggyu sleeping peacefully, hair fanned out across his pillow, lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Hoya smiles for a moment, reaching over to brush the hair off of Sunggyu’s forehead.

 

He wasn’t supposed to dream. Not when Sunggyu was here. But that didn’t matter, really. What  _did_  matter was this weird feeling inside him, this feeling that he has forgotten something. There is a nagging feeling, pulling at his thoughts, a feeling that there is something  _very important_  that he is missing. For some reason he feels like it is back at his apartment, this thing that he has forgotten. He doesn’t know how, or why, he thinks this. He just does. It’s unexplainable, but maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with the dream. He’s never woken up feeling like this before. Something is _different_.

 

So Hoya slips out of Sunggyu’s bed, careful not to wake the other man. He scribbles him a quick note (just to let Sunggyu know that he’s not running out on him) and gathers up his clothes. He gets dressed quietly, fastening his belt and pulling on his white basketball shoes. He leaves just as quietly, sliding out the door and shutting it softly behind him.

 

-

 

When Hoya arrives at his apartment, he knows something is wrong. You know that feeling in your chest, the one where you know something bad is going to happen, but you don’t know what? Hoya inserts his key into the door, hearing the soft click of the lock. He walks in and is met by a blinding light. All the lights in the apartment are on, even the kitchen light, despite it being the middle of the night.

 

“Dongwoo?” Hoya calls out softly. “Dongwoo, where are you?” The feeling in his chest spreads when there is no answer. He calls out again, voice wavering. “Dongwoo?”

 

Two hands grip his shoulders tightly and Hoya nearly screams, clapping a hand over his own mouth in shock. He whirls around. “Dongwoo, what-?”

 

“Hoya, please, you have to leave. You weren’t supposed to come; you’re not supposed to be here. I mean, he said that you’d come but I didn’t want to believe it, Hoya, you’ve gotta go. Please leave,  _save yourself_!” Dongwoo looks like he has just seen a ghost, his hair disheveled, face white. Hoya, stunned, notices that Dongwoo’s eyes are completely clear, intensely focused on Hoya’s face and beginning to fill with tears. He’s shaking, and his eyes keep darting to the sides in fear.

 

Hoya grabs Dongwoo’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Dongwoo, what’s going on? What’s happening?”

 

“He coming, Hoya, he’s coming for you! You can’t let him get you, you can’t!” Dongwoo starts to sob, his whole body trembling.

 

“Dongwoo,” Hoya says in a shaky voice, “Dongwoo, who are you talking about? Who’s coming for me?”

 

Dongwoo gasps for air, pointing over Hoya’s shoulder. Hoya turns, and only sees the refrigerator, covered in Dongwoo’s drawings. There was the silver gun and the dress shoes, and some new ones, like one of a pair of lips around a cigarette and one of the shoes Hoya was wearing, the basketball shoes.

 

“Dongwoo, you’re not making any sense…Dongwoo?” He shakes Dongwoo’s shoulders again, but the boy’s face is now frozen, his expression one of pure terror. His eyes are focused at a point over Hoya’s shoulder.

 

Hoya swallows, his fingers digging into Dongwoo’s shoulders. His breathing stops.

 

And then the whistling starts.

 

Hoya turns and races across the room, heading into the living room. He looks around for something,  _anything_ , to help him. He starts to reach for a stool sitting in the corner when the icy cold wraps around his body. He gasps, falling to his knees. His thighs bump his white basketball shoes as he hits the ground.

 

Clenching his teeth, Hoya forces himself to look up, and there he is. The figure, shrouded in shadow no more, looks down at Hoya. His hair is as black as pitch, his skin contrastingly pale. A huge, red scar cuts from his eyebrow to the corner of his lips. He wears a suit, tailored and spotless. When Hoya inspects the man further, his stomach lurches. He has thin lips, wrapped around a cigarette. He’s wearing dress shoes, like the ones Hoya wears to work. There seems to be a stain on the right shoe, maybe made by some sort of liquid. And the man’s slim, long fingers are wrapped around a silver gun, pointed straight at Hoya’s face. The man cocks his head to the side and smiles around the cigarette, his smile cold and sharp.

 

Dongwoo comes rushing into the room then, his face tearstained and his eyes wild. He lets out a violent sob when he sees Hoya on his knees in front of the man. “No, no, no,  _please_ , Myungsoo, please don’t-”

 

“You knew?” Hoya is surprised that he could still speak at this point. “You knew that this was going to happen?”

 

Dongwoo looks at him with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, Hoya, I’m so sorry. I tried to tell you, I really did, but he wouldn’t let me-”

 

“ _Quiet_ ,” the man, Myungsoo, says. Hoya doesn’t hear his voice so much as feel it inside his body, and he doubles over as the word cuts into him. Dongwoo bends over too, gasping.

 

“ _Dongwoo has served me well_ ,” Myungsoo continues. It feels like knives. “ _You didn’t even recognize him in your dream, did you, Hoya_?”

 

Hoya gathers enough strength to look up, glancing at Dongwoo. Dongwoo is leaning against the wall, clutching his stomach, but he meets Hoya’s eyes with his own.

 

“The. Voice.” Hoya gasps, trying to concentrate around the pain. “I…Recognized the. Voice.”

 

“ _It’s too bad Dongwoo can’t help you now, isn’t it?_ ”

 

Hoya forces his head up again. “Dongwoo…please….”

 

Dongwoo gasps again, taking a step in Hoya’s direction. Myungsoo watches with an emotionless expression before reaching out a hand, almost lazily, and bringing his middle finger and thumb together.  _Snap_.

 

 Instantly, Dongwoo straightens up, his head snapping up and his face collecting into a carefully blank expression. And his  _eyes_. Hoya feels his head start to swim when he notices Dongwoo’s eyes. They are completely clouded over, pupils invisible.

 

“ _Don’t help Hoya_ ,” Myungsoo says, and Dongwoo nods mechanically, making his way over to the table in the living room and pulling out a piece of paper and a crayon. He starts to draw.

 

“Dongwoo,” Hoya pleads, but there is no reaction. Dongwoo continues to draw, face emotionless.

 

Myungsoo stares at Hoya, a small smirk appearing on his face. “ _There’s nowhere left to run, Hoya_.”

 

Hoya feels the fingers start to squeeze, wrapping around his heart. It’s cold, it’s so cold. “Please… _please_ …I-”

 

Myungsoo doesn’t even blink. He just smirks, just a little, and starts to sing. It’s so quiet that Hoya can barely hear him, but the words slice into his body.

 

“ _I've waited for a long time. Yeah the sleight of my hand is now a quick-pull trigger.”_

 

Myungsoo’s hand tightens its grip on the gun.

 

_“I reason with my cigarette. And say, "Your hair's on fire, you must have lost your wits, yeah."_

 

A gunshot.

 

Then silence.

 

-

 

Sunggyu wakes to warm morning light streaming in through his window. He opens his eyes blearily, taking a deep breath before relaxing into the soft sheets on his bed. Stretching out a hand to the side, he meets…nothing. Sunggyu jerks his head to the side, only to be met with the sight of a very empty bed.

 

So Hoya left. Of course he did.  _What were you thinking Sunggyu_ , he scolds himself.  _Hoya wasn’t ready for this. You shouldn’t have done this._ He sighs a deep sigh and sits up slowly. A flash of white catches his eye, and Sunggyu curiously picked up the object that apparently was lying on his chest before he sat up. It was a piece of paper. Sunggyu quickly unfolds it and reads:

 

_Hey. I know what’s going through your head right now, so stop. I’m not mad at you; I’m not running out. What we did last night wasn’t a mistake. At least, I don’t feel like it was. I’m sorry I have to leave; I just need to check on Dongwoo at my apartment and make sure he’s doing okay. You never know with those nurses. If I’m not back by around ten o’clock, you can just come over._

 

_And thanks. For everything._

 

_-Hoya_

 

Sunggyu smiles and turns the paper over in his hands. Of course, Hoya would be the one to write a thank-you letter after sex. He chuckles to himself and glances at the clock. 11:30 a.m. and Hoya wasn’t back yet.

 

Still smiling to himself, Sunggyu swings out of bed and gets dressed, carefully closing the door behind him as he starts the journey to Hoya’s apartment.

 

-

  
  
Taking out his “emergency” key, Sunggyu opens to door to Hoya’s apartment quietly, not wanting to wake Dongwoo up if he was still sleeping. Sunggyu steps inside, noticing that all the lights in the apartment were on. “Hoya?” he calls. He hesitates at the door when there is no answer. “Hoya?”

 

Walking into the kitchen, he wrinkles his nose disgustedly. “Ugh, what is that smell?” Wait….there was a noise. It sounds like it is coming from- the living room? He heads into said room only to be hit by a more intense wave of the stench.

 

“God, it smells like a hospital in- Dongwoo?” Sunggyu takes a step back, surprised, when he sees Dongwoo sitting in the corner of the room, back against the wall and hand moving frantically across a piece of paper. Sunggyu walks over to him, quietly. “Dongwoo, where’s Hoya?”

 

The boy doesn’t answer. His hand keeps swiping across the paper, drawing something that Sunggyu can’t see from the angle he was standing at. “Dongwoo,” he says again, more firmly this time. “ _Dongwoo_!”

 

The boy then lifts his head, and Sunggyu gasps. His  _eyes_ ….his eyes are so….cloudy? It’s strange, Sunggyu can barely see the outline of his pupils, and nothing else. They look like the sky on a rainy day. Dongwoo smiles then, a big, huge smile that doesn’t meet his eyes and raises the hairs on Sunggyu’s arms. He cocks his head to the side, hand stilling. “Hoya?” Dongwoo asks, gripping the piece of paper in his lap. He laughs then, a strange sort of laugh that makes goose bumps appear on Sunggyu’s skin. He doesn’t say anything more, just starts to hum a strange sort of tune that Sunggyu doesn’t recognize.

 

Sunggyu stands still for a few seconds before he notices something out of the corner of his eye. He turns around.

 

There is a hand sticking out from behind the sofa.


End file.
